


Resting by her Heart

by MatildaSwan



Category: The Hour
Genre: Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stare Lix had given him was a fragment of war itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resting by her Heart

**Author's Note:**

> a_writing_muse: tempest

Freddie often wondered about that ring, looped around her neck. Nestled between her breasts; resting so close to her heart. She never spoke about it, barely acknowledged its existence, as far as Freddie could tell. He’d brought it up once, and the stare Lix had given him was a fragment of war itself. 

After that moment he understood how she went toe to toe with some of the most powerful men in London, across the world, and bent them to her whim. Glorious woman that she was, she was still a woman; if it was hard for Bel now, and he knew it was, how horrid must it have been for her then? Fresh faced and shiny, one of the original ‘lady reporters’, one of the first women to step away from the lens, from the gaze of a camera; to stand behind it and control the shutter. After that, he understood how she got her own way so often. With a stare like that, they would forget she was a woman; fragile and maternal, a possession in their minds. 

A stare like that reminded you how brilliant a journalist she was, how brilliant she was period. A stare like that cut through glass and shattered egos; slashed through pretence and ignored bullshit. She was contempt and practicality wrapped up in ferocity, tied in a bow of talent. She was a tempest contained inside flesh and skin: underneath that calmness and solidity there for the rest of the world, a storm raged within her. She was a gust of fresh air, crisp and harsh against the staleness of world. He needed a force like that in his life, he knew. 

He needed Lix. 

She was understanding and clarity, a scarred past stitched together by her own hand, patched up to form such a solid foundation: unshakeable in its convictions. Solid enough to catch him when he fell, strong enough to give him grounding when he fell from grace. He would fall; he knew that with certainty, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he would make a mistake one day; maybe a story gone wrong, stepping on the wrong toes as he dug too deep, or following the wrong story all together. He couldn’t be the golden boy all his life, he could feel that changing. 

He wanted her to be there when it happened; wanted to see the intricate of life painted in blacks, whites, greys. He wanted to fall into her stare, be engulfed by that understanding. Have that clarity in human nature invade his senses and rewrite his prejudices. Have her stare at him till he got on his feet again, saying she was too old and tired to deal with his immature ego. He wanted to slip his hand in hers after it was over and know he was a better journalist for it all; a better human because of her.

He might not have given her a ring, but he’d promised himself to her all the same.


End file.
